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Dead Poet's Society
Hee-Hee, I was just going through my CLASS-SICK-CAL LITERATURE kiddies. Would you prefer me to read you a CLASSIC SLAY from WILLIAM SHAKESFEAR, or a riveting poem from DEADGAR ALLEN POE? Oh, so you would just like tonight's DEADTIME STORY, about a GORE-GANIZATION, that prefers the Old Classic, I call... Back in the early-Winter of 1906, there was a cottage up, in southwestern-Canada out, in the wilderness one evening. A teenage girl wandered through the woods, knocking on the door of the cottage. The door of the cottage was answered by a person with a black shawl over a white long and flowing dress, with a gray hood on. "Oh, good evening, Child, may I help you?" the person asked the teenage girl, in a lady's voice. "Good evening ma'am, um, yes. Is this Dead Poet's Society?" the teenage girl replied, asking. "Why, yes my Child. Come in please" the woman invited her. "Thank you ma'am!" the girl replied, smiling and going inside the cottage. It was all dimly-lit by candles and lanterns on shelves and tables around the living room of the cottage. "This here is a very tiny society young lady. We read from our favorite Poet, Edgar Allen Poe. Welcome, you may have a seat anywhere!" the woman explained to the teenager, welcoming her, kindly. "Thank you" she said, finding a chair at one of the tables. The lady handed the girl a book of Poems By Edgar Allen Poe and sat across the candle-lit table from her. The lady held her own copy of the book and they both opened and the woman began reading: "Annabelle Lee" out loud. She finished the poem and said to the girl, "you can choose one, dear". "Alright. How about I read this one?" the teenager asked, pointing to another one. "The Pit And The Pendulum" she said, grinning. "An interesting poem my dear. Go right ahead" the woman answered. The girl read the poem out loud, and when she was done, the lady revealed her face in the candle-light. "We, like the poets we love in this group, are also dead Child!" the woman said to the teenager. The lady was missing her eyes. Huge, dark-black holes of eye sockets gazed at the girl. The teenager gasped and screamed in terror at the zombie. Then she saw a phantom appear at another table. The specter was of another lady, and she wore a gleaming-dress of dark-blue. The ghost of the lady had glowing, deadly-white skin, appearing quite misty and transparent a little bit. The teenage girl screamed, jumping up. Worms and maggots began squirming out of the zombie's rotted-out eye-sockets and dead-mouth as she laughed. The ghost of the lady scratched her ghostly-hair of grey and stared over at the living-corpse, with her solid-black eyes. "Oh, good Sylvia my Friend, we have a guest in your old cottage this evening!" the apparition said to the zombie. "Yes, Penelope" the zombie of Sylvia replied to the phantom, standing at the other table. The teenager dropped the book on the table, racing out of the cottage in quite a hurry. That poetic group was rather DEAD-ON wasn't it boys and girls? At least, Sylvia was trying ZOMBIE a good host OF CORPSE Ha-Ha-Ha!! Penelope was in FINE SPIRIT too hee-hee!